


still air

by alexi_of_carthanas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, American Midwest, Drabble, Gen, Science Fiction, Sentient Plants, Suspense, The Landscape is trying to murder things, cornfields
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexi_of_carthanas/pseuds/alexi_of_carthanas
Summary: can be interpreted as standalone or as part of a larger work, which it isn't at this moment and may never be, but still.





	still air

The American Midwestern air is unnaturally still as Zeela attempts to make bread for human neighbors. The tall humanoid straightens, hitting their head on a hanging pot, and growls. 

The door opens and Zeela’s back-eyes see one of the alien youths in their small ... co-op? That is what the humans call it. Odd words. Leeta is breathless, which is also odd, considering their species does not require breathing through the mouth and nose to survive. “The corn is alive!” 

“I do not think humans can manufacture sentient corn, Leeta.”

“Um, have you ever visited the cornfield?”

Zeela nods. “I have watched you and the other youth play.”

“Have you ever been _in_ the cornfield?”

“No,” Zeela concedes. “Why do you think it’s sentient?”

“All our stuff keeps disappearing into the cornfield overnight. The human youths’ stuff, too.”

This gives Zeela pause. Leeta watches. The air is too still today, the corn stalks across from the poorly constructed road not even rustling. “Perhaps Bora can lead a search for the items. Cornfields are large, after all.”

These humans have odd methods of agriculture. The crop fields spread out, sprawling in endless rectangles, almost as unearthly as the group of humanoid aliens.

Leeta shakes her head: “We won’t find them.” 

Zeela senses fear from the youth, and is perplexed. “Then perhaps we shall find out other things about the cornfield.”

Bora is the best at pattern analysis, tracking, and navigation. Still, as soon as the short humanoid enters the cornfield, there is nothing to analyze. The rows of corn look the same. A wind picks up again, and Bora feels it coming from more than one direction.

The crew behind them has disappeared into the corn. Bora reflexively takes a breath, copying the humans’ nervous habits. They are alone. The wind runs through the corn stalks, creating a vibration accompanied by whooshing and whistling. 

By dusk, Bora has found none of the missing items, nor a way out of the cornfield. The communicator on their belt has gone dead despite having a 2 Earth-day charge. 

The Midwestern night sky above them shimmers with stars, and Bora has to shove down the nostalgia. The starry sky is differently patterned than their homeworld’s, anyway. They look at the dark corn stalks washed in moonlight, and decide to sit; someone might find them eventually and they will run out of energy if they move for the whole night.

The corn stalks create a starlit wreath above the humanoid’s head. Wait. _That cornstalk wasn’t in that position before, and there’s no wind._

The ground disappears, as though a void opened; there is no rumbling of soil and earth, just nothing, and Bora falls.


End file.
